The Fire Mages

by Pauline M. Ross

  The last rumour I could verify for myself, for I had a message from Deyria the sun she arrived. The following sun, I found myself sharing a noon board with her and the Kellon. I tried all the food – I’d never seen so much for just three people – but only sipped the wine I was offered. A couple of experiments at the inn had gone so badly awry that I’d learned caution.

  I hadn’t seen my sister since the previous summer and I barely recognised her. Gone was the scatterbrained, easy-going girl with the torn skirts and windswept hair. In her place I found a lady, gowned and coiffed and bejewelled, very much at ease in this world of nobles and servants and silver spoons for her food. When the Kellon selected the choicest parts of each dish and set them on her plate, or poured wine and pressed the glass goblet into her hand with a lingering look, she smiled and blushed and gazed demurely down at her lap. When the servants moved around with platters and bowls and jugs, she knew when to help herself and when to allow them to serve her. When I dropped a piece of fruit and reached down for it, she leaned across and gently placed her hand on mine, as a servant rushed forward to retrieve it. And all the while, she kept up a patter of conversation. She reminded me of Mother, although much better dressed.

  It was the first time I’d seen the Kellon up close, and I was impressed. His belly told of a man no longer quite as fit as he had been, and his hair was more grey than not, but he kept himself well for his age. He had a relaxed way about him, not at all haughty. He was interested in my work at the scribery, amused that I had turned down the opportunity to be his drusse, and pleased that I would be so close to Deyria now.

  “So you are in the mirror room?” he said. “I do not remember you from there, but then I seldom go myself.”

  “I saw you there once, briefly,” I said.

  “Ria has told me a great deal about you.” Ria! That was a new one. “About your ambition to be a law scribe. How you saved up your coins to pay for it. You would have made a useful sum as my drusse, you know.”

  “I know it. But I might have ended up with a child as well.”

  “Ah. Yes.” He was silent for a while as the servants gathered up plates and jugs, left bowls of nuts and dried fruit and fresh wine on the table, and then withdrew. “I – we – should like to talk to you about that.”

  I raised my eyebrows, not sure where that line of thought was leading.

  “You are probably aware,” he began, “that the Kellonor – my daughter – has many fine qualities, but her ability to be Kellona has been questioned. Not by me, you understand, but by some of my kin and subordinates, who feel that her...” He paused, seeking the right words. “...her physical limitations would constrain her to an undesirable extent. The Bai-Kellonor is not right either. By their judgment, you understand. He is a fine young man, but – different. And a Kellon or Kellona rules only by the acquiescence of the nobles.

  “So... I need to reassure them by producing another possible heir. Well, I have three candidates lined up, there is no shortage, but whichever I choose I would have to marry the mother and – well, none of them appeal much. Not now that I have met Ria.” He smiled so warmly at her that she blushed again. When did she become so modest?

  “I would like to marry Ria,” he said, looking me in the eye, “and she would like to marry me.” He took her hand, raising a deeper blush. “But we need a child, and she tells me that—” He sighed. “Forgive me, Kyra, but I must have an answer to this. An honest answer. Last summer you scribed a false spellpage for Ria to prevent pregnancy. Is there any chance it may have adversely affected her?”

  Well. At least it was all in the open now. “Deyria must have told you how it happened.”

  “Of course, but I need to hear it from you.”

  “It was not a true spellpage, Lord. The paper, the ink, the pen were mundane – not magically enhanced. I wrote out the words of the spell, but there is no power in the words alone.”

  “Indeed so, although many believe such superstitions. So your actions could not have caused any damage?”

  “None at all.”

  “Yes. That is as we thought. Ria has admitted it was a foolish idea...” He smiled indulgently at her. “No harm done, eh? We have not been able to spend as much time together as we would have liked, these last few months, and now that she is here and with me all the time, I daresay things will happen very quickly.”

  I smiled and nodded, but I wasn’t so sure. The three proofs of his virility were dubious, and what would become of Deyria if she failed to provide the hoped-for child?

  ~~~~~

  I was approaching the end of my second year at the scribery, and the limit of the training my meagre finances allowed. By the summer, I would be a transaction scribe, and although that would be a profitable enough career, it wasn’t enough for me. I was determined to complete the full five years and become a law scribe, but to go any further, I needed a patron.

  Of my original cohort, only fifteen remained, and ten of those were content to leave or were rich enough to pay their own way into the third year. Each successive year cost substantially more than the year before, so only the wealthiest could afford the full fees. However, the scribery allowed each Master to choose a promising pupil for further training without payment. Only two had a vacancy, but I was confident that my talents would be acceptable.

  On the sun of choosing, the two Masters with vacancies came to our study room. The five of us needing a patron were brought to the front of the room. Mani’s family were to pay for his third year, but Hestanora was one of the five. She eyed me rather smugly, and I wondered why she was so confident when she was far less accomplished than I was.

  “Well now, Scribes,” one of the Masters said, “here’s your chance to impress us. Tell us everything about yourselves that you think would make you an attractive pupil to one of us.”

  It hadn’t occurred to me that I would have to make a speech. What, after all, was there to say that they could not read from the records of the past two years? We knew both of them well, so what was the purpose of it?

  The first boy to speak described himself in such glowing terms that I would have been impressed myself if I hadn’t known him. And he offered personal services to whichever Master chose him – cleaning, doing laundry, cooking, whatever was needed. The second boy offered in addition to pay one fifth of any earnings for life to the Master who became his patron. For life! It was ludicrous, but I saw one of the Masters nodding to that. Hestanora began a long recital of her noble family – all the Kellons and Durshalons she was distantly related to. She even claimed to be some kind of cousin to the Drashon.

  My heart raced. How could I hope to compete with this? I had no noble lineage. I didn’t like the idea of giving away a sizable part of my income for ever. But it dawned on me that these Masters were not, after all, taking on poor pupils out of mere kindness. When Hestanora began to simper and blush and mention the very personal services she could provide in gratitude to her Master, I began to see what this was about. Why had I never realised this before? At the more advanced levels, tuition was much more personal, and the Master spent a great deal of time and effort with each trainee. Obviously they expected some recompense for that, and if it was not paid in money, then it had to be some other form. My dreams were vanishing before my eyes. Panic crept up on me and I shook with fear.

  I had barely begun scrabbling in my mind for something I could offer when the door flew open, crashing against the wall, and a man strode in, his long coat flapping around his ankles. Not just a man, I realised. He was a mage, although the tattoo on his forehead was not one I recognised. I rarely had contact with any of the mages, and I had never seen this one before. He was skinny, with stringy blond hair falling to his shoulders, and he marched in as if he was lord of all the moons. In a way he was, for the mages were the nobility of the scribery.

  He grinned at the five of us standing in line, uttering such a loud “Ha!” that Hestanora jumped. The two Masters exchanged glances.

  “
Cal, I thought you had already made your arrangements?” one of them said, in tones of resignation. They were irritated, but he outranked them, so they couldn’t complain.

  The mage glared at them. “Didn’t work out. So what do we have here?”

  He paced up and down, examining each of us and responding in ways that were bizarre and frankly a little frightening. He leered at one boy so closely that their noses almost touched, cackled with laughter at another, stared at my breasts and pulled Hestanora’s hair. To one boy he said, “Too ugly. Go away.” To another, he simply shook his head and waved him away. They both scuttled off to join the rest of the cohort at the back of the room. That left the boy who would pay a fifth of his earnings, Hestanora and me.

  “Names,” he said with an airy wave of one arm.

  “Teshion abre Lestor endor Ardamurkan.”

  “Hestanora abra Teynia fen Gurshmonta.”

  “Kyra abra Dayna endor Durmaston.”

  “Well, well, well. A town boy, the daughter of a fancy family and a village rat. An interesting mixture. So, each of you, give me one reason why I should take you on.”

  One reason. It didn’t seem like much to ask, but what could I offer that would entice a mage? My mind was blank. I could see my future slipping away from me.

  The mage strode up and down the room, swishing past the three of us, back and forth, back and forth, like a crazed fly.

  The boy began his speech again, and it was word for word the same. Well-rehearsed. Clever of him, for he seemed very composed under pressure, unlike me. But he had barely got beyond his test results when the mage flapped a hand at him.

  “Enough! That’s more than one reason. I don’t want a pupil who can’t even count to one. Begone. Next.” He glared at Hestanora.

  She licked her lips. Even without looking at her, I could see her trembling. She began two or three times, stammering and tripping over the words. Then in a rush she burst out, “I’m related to all the nobility, and I’ll warm your bed.”

  It was two reasons, not one, but he didn’t comment on that. Instead, he simply laughed in her face. She turned her head away from him, and I thought I saw a tear trickling down her cheek. I had no time to feel any pity for her, though, for my turn was next, and I wasn’t terrified any longer. Anger bubbled up inside me. How dare this arrogant man treat us so rudely? Mages were the pinnacle of scribing, supposed to be examples of ability and wisdom, advisors to the rulers, no less. Yet this man behaved appallingly. He expected us to grovel and plead for his favour, yet he couldn’t manage a shred of courtesy. How could he teach us anything worth knowing when he displayed so little respect? And how could we respect him? I would rather go back to my village than make deals with such a person. I determined to offer him nothing except my own talents.

  So when the mage leered at me and signed for me to begin, I straightened my back, breathed deeply and willed myself to calmness.

  “I am the best in my year,” I said. I looked him straight in the eye as I spoke, and saw surprise there. For the first time, he stopped moving, staring right back at me, and he seemed less crazy. His eyes were a vivid blue, seeming to drill right into my head. I refused to look away.

  “That’s it? You’re the best? Who says so?”

  “My test results say so. All the Masters say so. The rest of my year say so.”

  “And you think this is enough of a reason?”

  “It’s the only reason that matters.”

  He laughed then. “But what other inducements will you offer? Will you shine my boots? Cook my food? Warm my bed?”

  “I will study diligently. I will learn from your experience. My talents will reflect well on your teaching.”

  “No other reward for me?”

  “Teaching an apt and eager pupil is reward enough.”

  He paced a little, and then circled back to stand in front of me again, peering at me intently, all the craziness dropping away. “Well, Kyra abra Dayna endor Durmaston, you are certainly more promising than these abject insects. At least you don’t crawl in the dirt. If I take you on, however, I will require your participation in the renewal ceremony next year. That means you will have to become my drusse. Think you could manage that?”

  My breath caught in my throat. The renewal ceremony! Everything the mages did was shrouded in secrecy, but everyone had heard of the renewal ceremony. It was some kind of communion with the magical energy infusing the world which the mages drew on for their powers, but the process was a mystery, fuelling any number of rumours – of sacrifices, blood-letting, animal wildness and exorcism of demon spirits. And sex. There was supposed to be a great deal of uninhibited sex. For that reason, all mages were required to be married or have a drusse.

  Yet to be taught by a mage! What a prize that would be! The mages were the very best, the stars of the scribery – well, the best of noble birth, anyway. I could never be a mage. But to have a mage patron would open doors to me, assure me the best opportunities when I was fully qualified. In my most optimistic dreams, I had never thought of such a possibility, for mages rarely took on pupils. Yet it was fitting. I had spoken proudly, perhaps arrogantly, when I described myself as the best, but it was not an exaggeration. And if I was the best trainee of my year, shouldn’t I have the best teacher?

  “Well?” he said, leaning closer. “I have other possibilities, you know.”

  “Terms?” I croaked.

  He straightened again. “Training – up to three years, as you please,” he barked. “If you’re capable of it, of course. I’ll be the judge of that. Drusse – one year only. I’ll be tired of you by then.”

  “Children?”

  He shuddered. “Absolutely not.”

  I didn’t have to think about it. I couldn’t miss such an opportunity, and being his drusse wouldn’t be so terrible. I disliked him intensely, but he was young and not so bad looking. It was only a year, after all.

  “I accept.”

  “Good. Follow me.”

  He swept through the door, coat flapping, and I marched out behind him without a backward glance.

  I thought with triumph that my future was assured.

  7: Drusse

  My life was now changed beyond all recognition. After two years at the scribery, and just three suns after I’d added the second chain to my scribe’s necklace making me officially a transaction scribe, I became the mage’s drusse. I acquired a line of rings around one ear, and a surprising number of status marks tattooed on my upper arm.

  The mage was very off-handed about my drusse contract. He led me through town at a brisk pace, so that I almost had to run to keep up, to a well-appointed Scribing House I’d never seen before.

  “Drusse – one year – the usual,” was all he said to the scribe who served us. The scribe asked a couple of questions and then wrote industriously for some time, while the mage paced about the room. It was more like a private house than a place of business, so there were tables and shelves laden with ornaments, many of which he picked up, examined in a cursory fashion and then banged down again. Meanwhile, a minion fluttered along behind him, wringing her hands and retrieving abandoned objects from precarious positions, replacing each one carefully in its correct position.

  At length, the scribe was finished and handed over the contract without a word. The mage glanced over it, then handed it to me. I read it scrupulously but could find no fault with it. I hadn’t yet studied contract law officially, since it was third year work, but the standard types were available in the scribery library, and I had read them all. There was nothing out of the ordinary in this one.

  So we signed, and the scribe signed and added his seal, and then we went to the Contracts’ Hall to have the document witnessed and made official. I collected my few belongings and took them to the mages’ house, and thus began my life as a drusse.

  I could hardly believe my luck. Not only was I guaranteed to complete the full five years’ tuition at the scribery – subject to convincing the mage of my capability,
which I was confident I could – but I would learn from the best. That summer, for the first time, I didn’t go home at all, spending the break getting ahead on my third year studies and following the mage about on his duties.

  Cal was a thought mage, one who could cast a spell by saying the words of the spell or even thinking them in his mind, rather than writing them on paper. As a result, his duties were very variable. Sometimes he was at the library, and I was allowed to loiter nearby watching while he read and took notes, so long as I didn’t disturb him. At other times he was involved in secret mage activities from which I was excluded.

  Sometimes he visited clients requiring his services, and that was more interesting. He was accompanied by a couple of guards whenever he left the scribery compound, so we made rather an impressive procession walking through the town. He was quite different on these occasions, gentle and soft-spoken with the sick, briskly businesslike with merchants, respectful with nobles. I loved watching him work, his slender fingers held in elegant poses while he concentrated, eyes closed. Thought magic was awe-inspiring, and I never tired of it.